Tradition
by ManlyFashion
Summary: Wes teaches Fred a little about an English tradition (W/Fr)


Tradition  
By Vengeance Girl

  
  
**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own anything. I couldn't afford the characters even if Joss was selling them - I need a job!  
**SUMMARY**: Wesley teaches Fred about an English tradition  
**RATING**: PG  
**PAIRING**: Wes/Fred  
**FEEDBACK**: Please! To rach@wholenew.deep-ice.com  
**DISTRIBUTION**: The usual places, you know who you are. Anywhere else, please ask :-) I don't bite!  
**AUTHORS NOTE**: Thanks to Selina for putting up with my rabbiting on for weeks on end! And to MeriBeth for listening to my endless questions, and answering them!  
  
****  
Wesley unlocked the door to his apartment, and the gang traipsed in. He dumped his jacket on the back of a chair, and the others followed suit. It was his turn to cook, and although Angel didn't need to eat, he still came along for the ride. Tonight Wesley planned to cook a lasagne - it didn't test his skills too much, and yet was usually a pretty tasty meal.   
  
He headed straight for the kitchen, emptying a bag of groceries he'd bought earlier onto the bench. He joined in the banter as he cooked, the main topic of conversation being Gunn's new girlfriend - the one they weren't allowed to meet. He insisted it was because she didn't know anything about the work they did, but Wesley had the sneaky feeling that it was Anne, and he just didn't want to tell them. The meal was a success, each of them filling themselves with the delicious pasta dish. Fred offered to help him wash up, and he accepted the offer, as Gunn tried, once again, to beat Angel at one of his PlayStation games. Cordelia had curled up in his armchair, and promptly fallen asleep.  
  
Fred and Wesley got into a rhythm, he washed, and she dried. It was a simple rhythm, but it got the job done.   
  
"Hey, Wesley," she started, glancing at the calendar on his wall. "Says here today's 'Pancake Day'. What's that? You eat an extra big plate of pancakes for breakfast or something?"  
  
"That's not today, its Shrove Tuesday - tomorrow."  
  
"It's Tuesday today, Wes."  
  
He glanced at the date on his watch, comparing it with the calendar, and realised she was right. "You mean you don't know what pancake day is?"  
  
She shook her head. He grinned, grabbing his keys from the table, and dislodging all the coats balanced on the edge of the chair as he pulled his own from the bottom of the pile. "Can you finish here?" he asked, shrugging his jacket over his shoulders. "I need a couple of things." Fred nodded, and Wesley was out of the door before the others noticed he was gone.  
  
****   
Wes practically skipped to the small store at the end of the street. Once he got there, he dashed round, grabbing ingredients from the shelves. Unable to remember if he had enough for what he needed, he bought fresh of everything. "Flour, eggs, milk, lemon, sugar ..." he ticked the ingredients off in his mind as he picked them up. Grabbing a bottle of oil, he dumped everything at the counter.  
  
As the assistant rang each item up on the til, he quickly packed everything into a paper bag. Handing over the money, he smiled at the assistant and raced back up the street.   
  
He entered the apartment to find "Game Over" displayed on the television screen, Angel and Gunn having joined Cordelia in her slumbers.   
  
"Oh, hey, you're back!" Fred smiled. She gestured to the open cupboards around her. "I think I figured where everything goes, but if you find a plate in with the cups, it's probably my fault."  
  
He laughed. "It's okay, I usually just stick things in any old how. I'm not really here often enough to be fussy about it."  
  
"Right. So, are you going to tell me what this pancake thing is all about?"  
  
"I'm going to teach you to make pancakes. Proper pancakes - not those drop scones you think are pancakes."  
  
"Like crepes?"   
  
"Exactly like crepes."  
  
"Wesley, I don't think I'd be able to -"  
  
"Nonsense! They're so simple to do! Now, sit and watch while I get things ready, and then you can have a go."   
  
She smiled, and pushed herself up onto the bench. While he weighed out the ingredients, he told her a little about why it was called Pancake Day.  
  
"It's a Christian thing, if I remember rightly, although I think England must be the only country that celebrates it. Ash Wednesday is the beginning of Lent, and during Lent you're supposed to give something up, something you enjoy." He looked up. "So, chocolate, or crisps - for you, tacos."  
  
She looked dismayed. "How long is Lent?"  
  
"Forty days."  
  
"Six weeks?! I'm sure glad I'm not a Christian!"  
  
Wesley laughed. "So, the day before Ash Wednesday -"  
  
"Shrove Tuesday."  
  
"Right. On Shrove Tuesday, Christians used to make pancakes to use up all the frivolous things in their cupboards - flour, sugar, milk. All the things they were going to give up during the period of fasting. At least, I think that's the story. I knew it when I was younger, but somewhere along the line, it kinda got lost in the tastiness of the pancakes!" He set down the bag of flour on the bench. "So. Are you ready?"  
  
"I'll give it a go."  
  
"Come and stand here." He indicated the space next to him, and handed her a whisk. "First, we put the flour in, along with one egg and half of this milk." He pushed the measured ingredients towards her. "Go ahead."  
  
"In this bowl here?" She pointed at the empty glass bowl in front of her.  
  
"That's the one." Frowning, Fred carefully tipped the components into the bowl as she was instructed by Wesley. Once she was done, she picked up the whisk, ready for action.   
  
"What now?"  
  
"Whisk it. Mix it all together." Concentrating, she started to mix, but soon discovered it was more difficult that in looked.  
  
"Wesley?!" She asked, a worried tone in her voice. "Is it supposed to look like this? All gooey and lumpy? I don't think I'm doing it right." He looked into the bowl. "You're doing fine, but I'll give you a hand." He stepped behind her, placing his hands on top of hers. One on the whisk, and one on the bowl.  
  
She gasped slightly as she felt the warmth of his body pressed against hers, glad he'd taken control of the whisking. She let him guide her hand around the bowl, concentrating harder on keeping her feelings pushed down inside her in the section she'd marked 'Wesley' than on the pancake mix.   
  
"See, and then we pour in the rest of the milk," he continued, his voice softer and quieter beside her ear. She shivered slightly as he stepped away from her to reach the milk, but within seconds he was back in his place. He poured the rest of the liquid into the bowl, and they continued to whisk the mixture, neither of them really focusing on what they were doing.   
  
Wesley gently dropped the hand holding the bowl to rest round her waist, watching carefully to see her reaction. When she didn't move to pull away, he delicately kissed the side of her neck, causing her to shiver again. He paused in his movement, continuing to help her stir the mixture, until he heard her whisper.   
  
"Don't stop." It was so soft he almost missed it. He obliged, moving the kisses further up her neck until they both dropped their hands from the bowl simultaneously. She spun around and caught his mouth in hers, revelling in the feeling of being in his arms, until -  
  
"Wesley, I'm - whoa!" Wesley and Fred flew apart to see Cordelia standing in the doorway, her coat in her arms. Fred flushed beet red, and quickly turned back to the bowl of pancake mix.   
  
"Cordelia!" Wesley bit his tongue to choke back the laughter he could feel rising up inside of him.   
  
"I *was* going to say I'm tired, so Gunn's gonna give me a ride home ... what are you doing?"  
  
"We're making pancakes," replied Wesley, coolly. "The English way."  
  
"Well if that's how English people cook, I'm moving there!"  
  
"Cordy?" Gunn's voice floated from the other room. "You ready to go? Angel wants to head back to the hotel, too." His head popped round the corner. "Fred, you wanna come too?"  
  
She glanced up at Wesley and smiled, before looking back at Gunn. "Uh ... no thanks ... I'll get a cab."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"I'll make sure she gets back alright." Wesley spoke up.  
  
"Thanks English. Right, anyone who wants a ride, I'm leaving."  
  
"Coming, coming." Cordelia smiled at Wesley. "Have fun!" As she headed out of the front door, Wesley could already hear her whispering to Angel what she'd seen.  
  
They stood awkwardly for a few moments, until Fred broke the silence. "So, what do we do next?"  
  
"Well, I don't know ... I suppose ... maybe ... if you wanted to, we could ... go out for dinner ... sometime?"  
  
Fred laughed. "Wesley, I meant with the pancakes."  
  
"Oh!" He blushed. "Next we need a frying pan. Can you turn the hob on for me while I get the pan ready?"  
  
"Sure." She waited until he had his head in the cupboard, before adding "and I'd like that. To go for dinner, I mean."  
  
"Ow!" He pulled out of the cupboard, a frying pan in one hand, and his head in the other. "Ow," he repeated, quieter this time. "Stupid cupboard."  
  
"Let me take a look." She knelt down beside where he sat on the floor, and let her cool fingers roam over his scalp. "No blood. You might end up with a little bump, but it shouldn't be too bad."  
  
"Thank you, nurse," he smiled warmly at her, and stood up, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet with him. "Now. The fun part!"  
  
"This is the fun part? I thought the other part was quite fun ... especially the part where you kissed me .."  
  
He grabbed her round the waist and kissed her again. "Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet, babe!"  
  
"Why do you suddenly sound like you're from a bad cowboy movie?"  
  
"Because ... because I just do! Now stop arguing, or you might just have to go to bed without any supper!"  
  
"Would that be such a bad thing?" She smiled at him, and he cleared his throat, trying his best to drag his mind back to the pancakes.  
  
"Now, we've heated the pan, and put some oil in it." He reached to a jar on the window sill, and pulled out a ladle. "It should be hot enough now, so take this, and pour some of the liquid into the pan," he handed the ladle to her, and watched as she did what he said. As soon as the liquid touched the pan and started to sizzle, he picked it up, and expertly swirled it round so that it covered the pan's base.   
  
Placing it back down onto the oven, he searched for a round-ended knife, finding it right at the back of his drawer. He slid it underneath the pancake, loosening the mixture from the pan, and then shook it to ensure it was completely free. He picked the pan from the hob, and grinned at Fred.  
  
"Stand back!" Retreating from the oven, Wesley shook the pan a few times, then tossed it into the air, catching it perfectly to that the raw side now faced down. Fred gasped.  
  
"Wesley, that was amazing!" Tipping the cooked pancake out onto a plate, he turned to her. "Sugar and lemon?" She nodded quickly, keen to experience the whole thing. He sprinkled sugar onto the pancake, squeezed lemon juice on top, and rolled it up. He held the plate to her.   
  
"For you, madam." She picked it up with her fingers, and ate it in two bites. Her eyes opened wide as the taste settled on her tongue.   
  
"So you only do this once a year? It seems such a shame!" She smiled coyly. "Would you like a taste?"  
  
He smiled back, knowing exactly what she meant. He wiped his hands and pulled her to him, this time placing both hands solidly on her waist. She lifted both arms behind his head, and leaned it closer as he kissed her softly. When she finally pulled away, he grinned.   
  
"Mmm. Lemon."   
  



End file.
